Gaynor Davenport on how she hears horses speaking, and dealing with sceptics
When I was little, my grandad had an old pony in the field, called Dolly, who used to do the milk round with him. My aunt used to take me to feed Dolly bread and I would sit up on the wall and trickle my toes through her fur. That’s when I realised I could hear her.
One day she told me, “Dolly’s going away.” I told my aunt and my mum told her to bring me in, but I was kicking and screaming. The next day, Dolly was dead.
My mum never let me ride, but horses are in my blood. I remember being taken for a donkey ride as a treat on a trip to Blackpool, and I could hear the donkey telling me to choose him as he’d give me the longest ride.
This feature can also be read in this week’s Horse & Hound magazine, on sale Thursday 6 May
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